“Mum…” Carmen cleared her throat before continuing. “Mum, she didn’t—she didn’t die during—it wasn’t because of childbirth.”
Asa’s brows knitted together, the hard frown on his face deepening even further. “Oh?” he asked, perplexed. “Then that’s all the more reason why they can’t blame you. People really blow my mind sometimes.”
“They can,” she said in a small voice. “Blame me for her death, I mean. I—I’m not saying they’re right in doing so or that I’m justifying their words or their actions but—but I can see why they’d think that I’m the one to blame.”
Asa opened his mouth, about to ask her why she’d let herself think that; how exactly her mother died that it continued to haunt her to this very moment; how come it was so hard for her family to accept her mother’s passing away if death came for everyone at one point in their lives. Wasn’t death natural?
And then he clamped his mouth shut, because Asa wondered if perhaps the death of Carmen’s mother wasn’t due to natural circumstances. If maybe the reason Carmen seemed to be in so much pain and carry heartbreak in her eyes was because she’d inherited that pain from someone who’d left it behind for her.
Asa’s eyes landed on Carmen and for the third time that night, he watched. The roots of her hair on her forehead seemed to have formed tiny beads of sweat, her palm that was resting on his arm felt clammy, her eyes kept darting in all directions as she kept opening and shutting her mouth with a kind of desperation on her face he hadn’t seen before. Subtly, he shifted his hand that was loosely hung around her neck and moved it lower, lower enough that it slanted across her chest and he could feel the pulse of her heart.
It was beating fast. Too fast. And something told Asa it had nothing to do with their close proximity.
His eyes trailed over her face once more and swept over her obviously distressed posture.
Was he, someone who claimed to love her, going to actually put her through saying the words when it was so blatantly visible how much she was struggling right in that moment? Was Asa really going to ask that of her?
He wasn’t an idiot. He could come to a vague conclusion as to how her mother died. And whether Asa was in love with her or not, he didn’t think he’d want to put anyone through actually speaking out the words. Hell, as much as he despised Hunter and as much pain as that boy had caused him, Asa didn’t think he’d ever do that to him either. There were some lines you just didn’t cross.
And so, Asa lifted an arm from around her and placed it on her cheek, tilting her face towards him. “Carmen,” he said gently, with a small nod of understanding. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me right now if you can’t.”
Surprise flashed across her soft features, before confusion settled into the depths of her eyes, filling it to the brim. “But—but…” She shook her head, sitting up straight and leaning away from his embrace. “I need to let you in. I need to tell you. You said I didn’t open up much, that we couldn’t work if I remained closed off. I need to do this, don’t I? I don’t want to leave you in the dark. Not anymore.”
Something inside Asa hurt. It hurt so much to know that the way he’d delivered his words made her think he needed absolutely every single piece of her that she had to offer. That wasn’t what he’d asked for: it wasn’t what he’d meant.
“Carmen,” he murmured, running his thumb across her forehead and down her temple. “I asked you if you were ever going to let me in, and you told me you didn’t know. And so I walked out.” Asa lowered his head, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “But you’re here. And you’re giving me a way in. This is all that I ever wanted. This is all that I asked for—for you to show me you’re willing to actually open up and let me in. I never demanded for you to tell me all that there is to know within a single night itself. I just needed a sign, some sort of proof that you were actually willing to do some of the giving too.”
He angled his face and then pressed his lips to her cheek. “I open up quickly. You don’t. I get that. People have their own pace when it comes to letting others in. I just never knew if you were ever going to do so when it came to us. You’re showing me now that you do want to make this work, that you want me to understand, and as long as that’s the case, as long as you’re making the effort on your part, I don’t see why we can’t go at your pace.”
He smiled down at her, trailing his finger along her jaw. “Everyone’s always talking about taking things slow when it comes to the physical aspects of the relationship, always preaching about being patient with your partner until they’re ready to take things to the next level and not to force them into doing something that they’re not comfortable with…but nobody ever warned us about this—” he gestured between the two of them, “—about patience being needed for someone letting you in mentally and emotionally too. That forcing someone to open up is just as bad and pressurising as forcing them into doing something physical. But making you feel pressured is the last thing I ever want for you in this relationship, I need you to believe that.”
“I do believe that.”
